


Business Arrangements

by Phylix



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackmail, Body Horror, Body Modification, Dom Tekhartha Zenyatta, Dom/sub Play, Fisting, M/M, Omnic Sex, Omnics, Robot Kink, Robot Sex, Sexual Coercion, Top!Max, Wire Play, Zen reaches his hand at one point inside Max and feels around, bottom!Zen, but again with Robots, ish, robot penises and vaginas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 11:24:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18619666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phylix/pseuds/Phylix
Summary: Little fear encompassed Max as he settled his shoulders back against the pillow under him and spread his legs a little wider.  Max’s associates already had the videos of Mondatta, kneeling in prayer and worship, only this time, the world would not be so forgiving to the object of his devotion and charged with dispersing it to every online tabloid and rag if they did not hear from in by the morning.  If the monk had anything planned to stop his nefarious scheme, it would do little good.  Max was already thinking two steps ahead.





	Business Arrangements

Max shifted, feeling the smooth, silky fabric under him slip ever so slightly under his naked body. Above him, his hands grasped at the wooden rails of the headboard, tied down with black silks that left him mostly immobilized. He was eager for this session to begin. Already, Max had spent far too much time waiting.

The door had yet to open, of that much he was aware. His optical sensors had been covered with the same fabric that adored the bed--red at his insistence. Everything needed to be red and black.-- It limited his view of the world surrounding him, but it was a price to be paid. That was how it was in business; a transaction had to be made where he had to pay a little to get a lot. Keeping the name of a particular monk leader out of the tabloids for less than….virtuous affairs was his opening bid.

He walked away with everything he wanted; the young acolyte served to him in fine silks and laces to do with as he pleased for an evening. He only had to sacrifice a little personal freedom in return. 

So here Max was, splayed out like a whore in a brothel of his choosing, naked and waiting for the monk to come, alone and unadorned, and service his every want and desire. He just had to play the part of a submissive.

It was a joke, for sure. The Shambali monks were well known for their piety and righteousness. When the young female returned with the counter of complete acquiescence of his faculties, he was sure it was a ruse. But let the younger one have his game, Max would play his right alongside.

He shifted as he heard the door click before swinging open, only to be shut again mere moments later with a soft click. He listened to the slight shuffling of feet over the carpeted floor and the click of shoes as they were set aside.

What a good boy, with such good manners.

Little fear encompassed Max as he settled his shoulders back against the pillow under him and spread his legs a little wider. Max’s associates already had the videos of Mondatta, kneeling in prayer and worship, only this time, the world would not be so forgiving to the object of his devotion and charged with dispersing it to every online tabloid and rag if they did not hear from in by the morning. If the monk had anything planned to stop his nefarious scheme, it would do little good. Max was already thinking two steps ahead.

“You are only quiet, little one,” Max crooned. He flexed his arm and lifted his hips slightly for the gaze of the omnic in his room. His augmentations were impressive, he knew. Red patterned lights glowed under the synthetic skin of his cock, leading down between his shapely legs and to the pudendum below. Wealth had its rewards. He chose to spend it on all things related to, dare he say it, the flesh.

The monk let out a little hum and stepped closer. “I am just surprised,” Came the answer. His voice was soft and full of mirth, almost as if amused by the situation he found himself. He continued, “I had not expected to walk in here and--”

“See the great Maximilien bow to your command?” Max finished the other’s thoughts while his fingers danced along the rung of the bed. He itched to reach forward, to touch the warmth of the other omnic’s pure body.

A baseline model that is what he had first seen during the summits Post the second crisis of London. The Shambali monks nearly floating in with their simple hand dyed fabrics of yellow and orange and reds. Simple faceplates with no adorations except the blue dots etched into their faceplates like the human Shaolin monks they called ‘brother’.

He had scoffed at them then, with their soft talks of peace and prosperity. The childlike foolishness of enlightenment and seeking a world free of hate and anger. Did they not realize the world served a god of capitalism and wealth now? Did they not see that no person, be they human or omnic would ever take their message to heart and disavow all their material wealth? 

No, it was the same old world that had always existed; one where princes did not shed their robes of silk and refinement for tattered garments dyed by berries and the sun. He spoke thusly to Mondatta, “show me one prince that willingly becomes a pauper, and I will eat my hat.”

“Quite a feat,” the lithy lint to the voice behind him made him turn, looking at the younger monk behind him, laughing to the back of his hand. “I did not think your egregious wealth could afford you a complete digestive system as well.”

He stared for a moment too long, before the younger monk continued, speaking to Mondotta as if Max was not there between them. “I have heard of great advancements in cybernetics recently. A team in Switzerland was able to reconstruct a man ‘s complete organ failure after an apparent accident.” The monk had wandered away from him then, taking the arm of the spiritual leader and wistfully ignoring his all of Maximilien’s advances for the remainder of the night.

He wanted the omnic then. To put him in his place, to harm and humiliate the boy into realizing his grave misconduct. It festered in him, growing and intensifying as the weeks passed into months passed into years. He watched the little monk grow. With every news conference, he stood closer and nearer to his master — a faithful lapdog he wanted to put on his chain. 

To corrupt.

And now he was here, watching his body.

“I would ask if you are new to this, but we both know it is a lie,” Max hummed.

Zenyatta let out a hum of his own as a response. His warm fingers splayed out on Max’s exposed knee. “Is this the part where I am to act shocked for your amusement? I assumed you enjoyed my dry wit and banter. It is why you chose me over my superiors.”

“I have no want for Mondatta,” Max hissed. Zenyatta’s hands traveled north, dipping to the inside of his thigh and stopped ages and eons from Max’s core. 

“That is a lie,” Zenyatta quipped. Slowly, his fingers worked their way between his seams and to the pistons and mass of wires buried deep in his frame. Slowly, he began to stroke along them, sending bursts of electric joy straight through Max’s body. “You have a great want for my brother. You wish to see him disrobed in a very different context though. You want his disgraced.” 

“You and your whole cloyster are erroneous of the world’s needs,” Max continued, ignoring the drooling mess of his groin onto the sheets. He would not let the only know just how deeply affected he was by this. A trained omnic, who knew all the pleasures of his synthetic body. “I just wish to bring you some…levity.”

“Your message was heard,” Zenyatta stated coldly. “You have me for the night, as we agreed.”

“To do as I please.”

“No,” Zenyatta’s fingers pinched. The exposed circuitry flailed as every sensor in him responded. Pain flared from his limb as he attempted to twitch away. Zenyatta held him firm. “The agreement was that you had me for the night and I was to make sure you were satisfied, but I am to do as I please.”

Max snarled out a protest, only to feel the pinch subsite and the warmth of the fingers return to the soft petting of his wires. He shuttered and felt the hot liquid drool out of his waiting body. Betrayal.

The soft petting continued. “You agreed to these terms yourself. It was then signed and notarized, in front of your lawyer no less. I was to spend the night with you, here in one of your hotels. Sexual intimacy was mandated as well; I was to make sure you felt pleasures and were satisfied.”

Every word raked over him as those blissful fingers moved down, teasing at the nerve endings around his knees where another mass of nerve endings lay. His body twitched and spasmed. Every nerve ending was on fire, demanding the same incredible attention.

Zenyatta’s fingers probed deeper into his leg, twining around the largest wire and stroking slowly, tenderly. With malice. “You also must comply with my demands as well, or else the whole deal will be considered null. You granted me the power to have my way with you.”

His mind exploded, wanting those miraculous fingers anywhere else but in his damned leg. Every other lover. Every other man or woman he had bedded had never teased him so. It was not enough, the gentle thrumming of pleasure that was quickly dissipating and craving for more attention in his most sensitive areas. He wanted Zenyatta’s nimble fingers buried deep into his back, caressing the thick wires there. He wanted to feel himself pulsating around those hands as they moved up and under his chest plate, pinching meanly at the nodes inside. His face nuzzled into the crook of his neck, Zenyatta's body vibrating with pleasure and against the exposed nerves there. Not in his leg. Not in his damn leg.

“Do you agree?” Zenyatta was talking still; over all this, he was talking to him.

“Yes, damn you,” Max all but snarled again. “I am yours to command.”

That was all it took. Zenyatta’s hand disentangled itself and left his leg burning from the sensation, shuddering and begging for more. 

Two hands caressed against his face, a thumb stroking over the seam of his faceplate, over his chin and across his jaw. Then, slowly traveled over the raised ridges of his cheekbone before pushing up the blindfold that hid the world away.

Zenyatta was next to him, body pressing against the side of the bed, closer than Max had anticipated. The serene blue lights of his display dimmed slightly, still giving off that calming aura that all the Shambali possessed. 

Still, he was in his faded yellow Kasaya, as if mocking Maximilien’s attempts to corrupt the monk. He smelled earthy and warm, like a spring morning when the earth was still fresh from the long sleep of winter.

“I hope I don’t offend,” There was slight rancor in the monk’s tone as he dropped the blindfold away and let his hands linger on the top of Max’s head, petting along the ridges of his head plate and over the audio receptors on the sides of his head. “See, we spoke once about my attire when we met, but we never finalized anything. I assumed you wanted me as I am.”

Damn him.

“I would rather you naked and on top of me.”

Zenyatta chuckled. His hands slowly petted down the sides of Max’s neck, not daring to probe in any deeper. “In due time.”

Hands, calculating, expert hands, traveled over his frame, touching along his shoulders, his arms and to his hands, still bound to the headboard. Taking their time, wandering over his exposed, synthetic flesh. It was a stark contrast to the monk before him. The Shambali were a pious group, never spending any extras on body modifications. They were built perfectly. It was a load of horseshit Ma knew well. He had been a part of the negotiations that gave omnics only the barest of essentials at their manufacture. It was enough to survive but did not grant any lasting pleasures of comforts. Every pleasure of the body could be sold to you wholesale.

Zenyatta did not appear to be any different than his brothers in enlightenment. His chassis was mostly enclosed, hiding away the most vital parts from the elements, though he could still see the alluring red wires most chose to hide away under protective synthetic coverings. Likewise, his pistons were the same manufacturer chrome, without any adornment past a clear coat of protection against rust, the only novelty the Shambali seemed to partake.

Max wanted to feel them so badly under his fingers, to see if those red wires held the same sensitivity as his upgrades. Or if he had lied even to himself. Sold himself a set of expensive inner workings that did little to give him more of that carnal pleasure he deeply craved.

“I want you naked,” Max crooned again, arching into the hand that fell against his chest. Letting Zenyatta feel the heat of his body and the softness of the synthetic. “I have not seen an omnic is so long without a single upgrade.”

Slowly, the hands traveled across his chest and pinched at the black nipples exposed. Max howled, not concerned about his vocalizations. It was his hotel, he reasoned, let them all hear him. Extra nerve endings there, where humans carried them. Lovers, human lovers, would suckle at his black and chrome flesh for hours as he petted his hands through their tangled hair. Thick and warm tongues bathing his skin in their saliva as they fell deeper into his presence.

Not that Zenyatta could even do that. The omnic did not possess a mouth that worked in the traditional way, his voice box hidden behind that chrome and gold faceplate. He pinched harder, and Max wailed. “It has been a long time since you’ve been with an omnic lover, has it not? You seem to prefer the flesh of humans more.”

“Are you going to lecture me now, monk?” He hissed as fingers twisted. Pain rocketed through his core and into his cock. He drooled out more of the liquid, letting it pool along his abdomen and drip down to the sheets below. 

“Not in the slightest. We are alike in that regard,” Zenyatta mused as he let go. His hands moved lover, finding the seam where his chassis overlapped. His hands wandered inside, grasping at the inner workings of Max. “Humans are beautiful creatures, with their need for physical love and intimacy. The way their bodies react and counter the slightest ghost of a touch. The way they lose control when they climax and dig themselves into your side and shudder with their release.”

Max hummed in acknowledgment, settling himself into the comfortable stroking of Zenyatta’s agile fingers. His chest burned with desire, heating up as he felt those fingers probe around inside him, deeper and more thoughtful than any of his human lovers. “Unlike us, they are incapable of continuing after they have orgasmed as well. It is a shame really, just how fragile they are.”

Zenyatta’s hands traveled along, feeling the ridges of his pistons and fingering at the delicate circuitry within him. A human could never understand the intimacy of reworking an entire system. How it felt, feeling hands reaching inside your core and delicately replacing your insides with something even more sensitive than before. “It has been a while since you were last with an omnic then?” He framed it as a question, even though the answer should have been obvious. “I could do this to you, Max, for hours at a time. Remind you of all the ways an omnic has learned how to pleasure themselves.”

Zenyatta’s words ghosted along his face, and he leaned in to nuzzle against his neck. Max turned his head, slightly to the side to allow him greater access. He needed to feel it, to feel Zenyatta’s body against his. 

“Just my hands, Max,” Zenyatta continued, his fingers moving down, into the deep works of his abdomen, closer, closer to his goal. Instinctively, Max spread his legs wider, as if Zenyatta’s hands were on his outer shell and reaching for the straining erection against his belly and not inside, teasing him.

“Have you ever done this to yourself, Max?” Zenyatta’s voice breathed, barely over a whisper against his flesh as those fingers probed deeper still. “Felt yourself from the inside this way? Let your hands roam through the places that humans don’t have and just...feel?”

With that single word, his hand pressed downwards.

Maximilien spared little expense when it came to his body modifications. Omnics were not human. They did not need to abide by any traditional roles or binaries that human’s ascribed to themselves. They were omnics who chose what pronouns and names they wanted for themselves. Max liked all the vices the world had to offer; avarice and pride and wrath. Most of all, he liked hedonism. Watching the world around him bend to his every pleasure and desire. Taking the strongest of men and making them topple to his every desire. To kneel before him and worship him like an old god.

As such, his cock was explicitly built for him, with nerve endings and nodes along the softer ridges. An array of red lights illuminated his length, allowing for anyone in his presence to be mystified by his lovely body. It had not been enough. Still, there were more pleasures to be had and more desires that he would be able to obtain with just one set of sex organs. Feeling a human deeply penetrate his core was a pleasure he could not live without.

There was something enthralling with watching a man grunt and push into that slit that rested just below his cock, a second, fully developed set of organs that seemed to be outfitted with even more nerve endings and a deeper, more carnal pleasure that before.

There was power in his body. The potential to crumble empires and bring kings to their knees. To feel the mounting pleasure inside his core as they would thrust into him, deeper and harder, begging Maximilien for release, to squeeze down his inner muscles and hug his body to theirs as they collapsed, sobbing deep into his neck as they would empty their load into his waiting body, hot and needy. The feeling of the heads of cocks as they thrust into him, punishing and pressing against that inner coil of nerves newly implanted all around the channel of his hole.

But never like this.

Zenyatta pressed against that bundle of nerves. His fingers caressing along from the wrong side. Exposed nerve endings flickering and exploding as he did nothing more than brush his inner workings. 

Max gagged, his voice box short-circuiting as he pulled tight against the restraints. He wanted to reach out and grab Zenyatta’s arm, forcing him out of his body to stop the torment of his nerves being on fire. Hid body clenched at the nothingness around it, wanting to squeeze at the cock that was not inside him. Sweat broke out along his body as he writhed.

Still, Zenyatta teased. He tormented as his soft words continued to fall against Max’s oversensitive synthetic flesh. Words that held no meaning anymore. Teasing words that only contributed to tormenting him more. 

His legs were up on either side of his chest, splayed wide and inviting something-anything- to get shoved into his waiting body as Zenyatta’s callous fingers continued to stroke and move. His knuckle bent, just on the top side and pressed into the base of Max’s internal cock.

Max cried. His head tipped back as his whole array of red lights quivered and flashed. His voice box chirping loudly as wave after wave of hot cum splashed against his belly and chest against the side seams where Zenyatta’s hands used as an entrance to his inner body, covering him in his own, thick cum, milking it from his body. His cock ached for touch. His pussy longed to be filled — something anything to stop the unsatisfying end that had come.

Zenyatta’s hands slowed, his knuckle still raised and rotating around the nerves of his cock from the inside. His free hand rolled across his chest, petting him like one would a scared animal, trying to sooth away the agony that was building inside him.

“Such a good boy for me,” Zenyatta was cooing to him lightly, nuzzling his faceplate against Max’s own. Max shuddered again, before he could make a noise and retort, that knuckle again pressed against him, setting off a whimpering moaning orgasm where nothing….nothing came. 

“Do you want it, Max?” Zenyatta was speaking again, his voice coming out clearer now, penetrating the fog of his mind. “Do you want me?”

He managed a nod. The hand inside him stopped moving; instead it held onto him and….squeezed. Zenyatta tsked at that. He removed his hand carefully and stood up, undressing unceremoniously.

Max turned his head to watch the fabric pool away, leaving Zenyatta’s omnic body on full display. 

Zenyatta possessed a cock of his own, smaller and sleeker than Max’s own. The base model of genitalia offered to omnics, he reasoned, not that he could remember what his own, original body held. A lights array of teal blue illuminated as he moved onto the bed again, his cock bobbing as he sat next to him on the bed. 

Zenyatta was proportioned nicely in the same aesthetically pleasing way the rest of him was. His cock would not be enough to satisfy Max, but that was of no fault of his own. Max preferred his lovers to have more...girth to themselves.

“It is a shame,” Max panted, trying to regain a sense of control over his situation. 

Zenyatta tilted his head as if to implore further as he just sat there, next to Maximilien with his hands to himself. 

“I was expecting….different,” Max settled his shoulders back on the headboard and tsked as he moved his legs down into a more respectable position. “I assumed more young omnics were not...endowed as such. I was looking forward to filling you up until it came out of your circuitry.”

Zenyatta laughed again, this time without any of the levity he held before. “You think too little of me, Max,” He swung his leg over the other omnic’s chest and hummed as both sets of hands played with his now sticky seams before he leaned down, nuzzling quietly at his hip.

Max steeled himself, gazing intently at the ceiling as he waited for those mean little fingers to find their way inside him again. He would be prepared this time, prepared for their wicked game and sadistic torment. This time, he reasoned, he would understand this man’s game.

Only, the fingers did not reach farther in. They did nothing more than to pet along Max's sides and tangled amongst his wires. He looked down and gasped.

Zenyatta lay against him, his hard cock poised against his chest and dripping only the slightest amounts of precum against his chest, but further still, closer to him was that soft, synthetic gash Zenyatta was waiting for him to see. Waiting for Max to glimpse at before his hand once again moved inside him and began it’s tormenting strokes.

Max cried out again, hoarser than before as Zenyatta sat further down on his chest, rubbing his cock against his chest and letting the slit of his pussy twitch expectantly. He had not expected that. Had not expected a monk of all things to--

“Do you think so little of us Shambali, Max? You seem to think we are all pious in our chastity, but you, yourself, should have sussed out the truth by now. You caught Mondatta partaking of the flesh. You implied earlier you knew me to be familiar with these ways as well. Why then, would you assume we are against all matters of the corporeal?”

Slowly, he moved to sit up, pressing his whole weight against Max’s chest. If he had lungs, he would have struggled for air. The effect was not lost on him though. His cock stood straight at attention as Zenyatta’s hips rolled demanding his pleasure for all things Max. 

Zenyatta chirped and hummed as his hips rolled, his fingers working slowly around the base of nerves once again. His hand clasping onto it and stroking, twisting, vibrating.

Max whined. He whimpered and throbbed, his hips canting upwards with every needy twist of an expert wrist. Every tap and pinch that was a borderline between the excess of pleasure and pain.

“Answer me,” Zenyatta hummed again. “Do you want me?”

Max nodded again before realizing that at this angle, Zenyatta would not be able to see his face. “Yes,” He hissed out, consenting to anything this monk would do to him.

Zenyatta turned to look at him over his shoulder. “Beg,” He demanded, twisting his body to the side to straddle against his hips/ It appeared awkward to Max, straddling him in such a way where he couldn’t get a good grasp on any suitable part of Max’s body while riding him. 

Max watched as his hard cock lined up to that tight hole, half hidden with Zenyatta’s thigh. The hand inside him stopped moving, stopped pressing against those nerves as Zenyatta needed all his concentration to get Max’s cock inside him. 

Slowly, Zenyatta’s hips descended. The bulbous head of his cock ignited with warmth as the soft muscles of Zenyatta clenched around him, warm and wet and inviting. 

And he stopped. Barely inside him. Scarcely able to register more than those warm lips kissing at his tip, Zenyatta stopped. He turned to look at Max, waiting.

Max grunted. He strained against the ties that held him firmly to the headboard, wanting to break them and push this damned tease down into the mattress and fuck him right and proper. Teach him how to treat a man properly. He thrust up.

Zenyatta anticipated that reaction, and moved with him, keeping the warm lips just against the tip, teasing his shaft with the promise of warmth. “Beg,” Zenyatta demanded again, his voice even and unconcerned with the plight of the man just below him.

Or rather...he knew precisely what he had done to this man. Max felt it, the burst of wetness drip slowly down the shaft of his cock from the warmth of Zenyatta’s sheath. The omnic shivered slightly, his hand tightening on Max’s inner core as he repeated his order.

Max relented, “Please,” The words came out, gravely and raw as his gaze focused on where their bodies would join, feeling the slight give as Zenyatta started to settle himself lower. Feeling the give as his head popped inside that tight snatch. He felt the muscles contract around him, and he settled back.

Then he stopped. “Please what?” Zenyatta asked.

Max snarled. He raged. He gnashed and thrust upward, pulling intently against the headboard until he felt it began to creak and give. He wanted to shout, to roar and tear against this man that teased him so relentlessly, but knew better. 

Zenyatta’s inner muscles squeezed tightly, reminding him what was at stake. What was necessary to get exactly what he wanted. “Please,” He tried again. “Please, I want you to sit on my cock. I want you to move on me, nice and slow. I want to feel your cum on me, and I want you.” His voice shook as he tried to keep an even tone. 

It must have been right. Slowly, once again, Zenyatta moved. He lowered himself with the same dedication and lethargy he had employed while feeling around on his insides. The hand inside him moved once again as well, stroking his insides in time with each roll of Zenyatta’s his, taking him down, further and further until he was fully seated.

Max could not help but gasp at the sensation. His cock, warm and snug against his tight inner workings, feeling the artificial muscles of Zenyatta rolling and massaging as only an omnic could as his inner workings and wires were slowly pressed. Slowly stroked and ignited by nothing more than this man’s hand. This omnic hand.

He could not remember the last time he had touched himself in such a way, instead of partaking of the more human methods of self-pleasure. Stuffing his pussy while stroking along his cock. Trying to get that sense of fullness that now was at his doorstep. 

He laid prone, letting Zenyatta move against him, hearing the soft chirps the other made along with the wet slapping of synthetic against synthetic. Grinding his hips into Max’s slowly before lifting himself until he almost slipped out before dropping once again onto his enormous length.

Zenyatta moved methodically, in known, calculated ways, settling on a rhythm that left himself gaining the most of this experience, grinding against Max in such a way that would stimulate his nerve endings. His cock leaked fluids slowly, letting them drip down and onto his hips before he picked up the pace.

Max gripped the headboard and watched the ceiling once again. His legs spread wide as his body still longed for that thing that was teasing him from the inside. It was infuriating, feeling his slit throb and swell, opening wider and dripping lube onto the bed, waiting for a cock the swell of cock that his inner workings were adamant was there. His circuits fired off all wrong; it was as if suddenly there were five...ten hands all over him, touching him, feeling him, but still not filling him.

It was then the other took mercy on him. He felt it, three hot fingers pressing against his lips before pushing inside him. Zenyatta's other hand finding its place inside his pussy and stroking along his inner walls from the other side. 

He could feel them both. Both hands internally stroking at him, clutching at his nerve endings. Feeling that push of a fourth finger...of a wrist disappearing into his body, stretching him on the bulbous length as it pushed him further against his limits. 

Max howled. He raged and thrashed, thrusting harder and harder into Zenyatta, not gaining any leverage. His shoulders gave out, as did his legs, laying akimbo against the sheets as the omnic over him continued to thrust and pull and push. Continued to touch and caress.

Continued to pull him, edge him along.

His vision went white, and for a moment, he felt his entire motherboard power down as something radiant and bright filled the room. Around him, Zenyatta’s inner muscles clenched as he felt his cum shook out of him, painting the other’s insides with his artificial spend. The hands inside him both clamped down, knotting his fist inside him hard as the other squeezed his cavern from the other side, locking that fist deep inside him, filling him so wholly in a way he had never felt before.

It was like floating, the way his circuits fired off and his wires coiled and pistons relaxed. Everything in his vision stayed hazed as he felt his wrists slowly disentangled and a warm, wet ran roll over his sticky, cum soaked body.

Had Zenyatta even cum? 

Did it even matter?

Max felt himself beginning to power down, the excess of his power felt drained to a point he hadn’t reached in years. He hummed as he felt the sheet cover his body and a hand caressed once again down the side of his face.

He wanted to protest the action. Wanted to sit up and make one final quip to the monk, but found it increasingly hard to process what was going on around him as he drifted into unconsciousness.

Zenyatta’s voice was the last thing he heard, as those soft hands still warm and delicate, stroked along the sides of his face. “Do you see how good it can be, Max? How sweet it can feel to have me all to yourself. You can have it again if you would like. We can do this again without the whole fanfare of blackmail to your name. You have to give in to me.”


End file.
